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Friday, February 15, 2013

How I knew Reeva Steenkamp

Reeva Steenkamp was my homegirl. Which is slightly different
to her being my friend. We were friends too, but that came later.

First of
all, we were from PE. People from Port Elizabeth share a sense of heritage, a
flat, working-class accent, and an unpretentious world-view. PE is such an
isolated outpost, stuck away on the bottom right-hand corner of Africa. The
culture is one part small-town insecurity, two parts “fuck you” and three parts
naïve, wide-eyed fascination at the rest of the big, wide world.

Us former
PE residents like to tell ourselves the Bay “breeds quality people for export”
to paraphrase something from Captain
Corelli’s Mandolin.

So when we come
across each other in the big wide world of the Johannesburg fashion and media scene,
there’s often a knowing wink shared and a twinkle in the eye that says,
“Howzit, PE homie” as much as “How crazy is this place!”

I shared
those winks with Reeva Steenkamp, from the moment our paths crossed at an FHM
model casting somewhere around 2008. I’d left the PE local newspaper and was
then editor of the magazine.

Reeva had
been an aspiring teen model when we last met. I might have been judging her at
a “Faces Of The Future”-type model search in PE. In the end her break came when
she was selected to represent Avon cosmetics.

After
school, I lost track of her. By the time our paths crossed again in the casting
room, she’d apparently studied law, and was running a fresh produce business
with her then boyfriend.

Thrilled to
see her, we weren’t able to cast her that time. Though her personality sparkled
like the night sky, she was carrying a bit of extra weight. Still sexy, though.
She was a contender, but we didn’t choose her for that particular calendar.

The next
year, she was back, and in shape. She must have lost 10-15kg at least, which is
significant in the superficial world of bikini modelling. I don’t think she
made that calendar either. Something about too many blondes, or too pale. Like
I say, it’s a superficial world.

Undeterred,
she came back the following year. And then. Then! That was the charm. She had trained herself to flawless super-fitness,
was tanned and taut, but what set her apart was the attitude – that same
knowing wink. She knew what this game was all about, and she was willing to
play it. To train up, be flirtatious on video, bring that indefinable sexiness
in the eyes, strike the awkward poses…

So there
she was. On the calendar shoot for Bazaruto Island, Mozambique, where it was
immediately clear she was one of the most beautiful models on the island. Her
TV interviews were smart and sassy, striking just the right balance between
one-of-the-guys humour and sassy coquettishness.

She didn’t
make the calendar cover, but we made a mental note to get her on the FHM cover
as soon as possible.

That eventually
happened in December 2011, where we shot at a hotel pool on the roof of Joburg.
Reeva nailed it, and was fun to work with, if a little nervous about her first
cover shoot.

We were
impressed, and there was this vibe of, “Wow, this girl deserves to be more
famous!”

Gradually
that started to happen. She started appearing in more magazines, on the social
pages of the newspapers, always with that knowing wink. There was the odd TV
appearance. I heard she was going to be on some reality TV show…

Our paths
diverged again, and I started following her appearances in the media, charting
her course to inevitable stardom, proudly thinking, “There’s my homegirl. She’s
going to make it.”

When she
showed up in the socials on the arm of South African sporting icon Oscar
Pistorius, I was equally proud and impressed at the Blade Runner’s taste in
awards-show companions.

We followed
each other on Twitter and Facebook, where her wicked, almost scatological sense
of humour came into its own. Geez, she could be funny.

We bumped
into each other one last time at a hip eatery in Morningside, Johannesburg last
year. She was lunching with friends. It had been several months since we worked
together, and her star was ascendant. But she came over and we caught up
properly. My wife and I had a baby on the way, and she was generous in her good
wishes.

Reeva had
the look of a superstar in the making, someone on the cusp of bigger things.
Whatever the next level is in the realm of celebrity modelling and TV, she was
going to be there.

My homie
from the Bay.

Today her
name is known worldwide. In a few hours, I’ve spoken to the BBC, CNN, The
Guardian, The New York Times and the Sunday Independent, all wanting to know,
“What was Reeva like?”

Tragically,
it’s in the wake of her shooting at the home of her boyfriend, Oscar Pistorius.

I tell them
she was amazing. Charismatic, vivacious, intelligent, hilarious as well as
beautiful, with a deep, masculine voice, permanent smile lines round the
corners of her lips and a naughty sparkle in her eye.

She was
going places.

The
circumstances of the shooting are unknown and will only conclusively come to
light later.

As for the
tragedy’s greater implications for South African society, it’s another gun
killing. Another woman dead. Another hero’s name tarnished. The pics of my
fellow PE expat are being flashed across TV screens planet-wide. And you’re
forced to muse on how, you know, she really was quite stunning. She deserved to
be more famous.